10 comments:

As I've mentioned, Tuxedo Park, NY, where we lived for a long time, was an amazing deer preserve when we first moved there. But the latter-day settlers basically wiped them out, which in my notebook of hideous crimes I myself have witnessed features at the top of the list.

The same moon here was less nebulous, but equally enthralling. It was the main thing that lifted me out of yesterday's doldrums, that and the fact that my daughter said some very funny things.

I've been stopping in, after the manner of a dead inert lump, in my latter phase of invalidation, but did manage to stump out, of an evening, with the cane, on the occasion here recorded; and my word, the Earth did seem a pretty place to be.

Normally those halfgrown deer would be up in the watered hills by now, but this year the rain hasn't yet come, so they're down late, getting what moisture they can out of the foliage they nibble. This pair seemed entirely unconcerned about my clunky passing presence.

The Moonlight Sonata came to mind, and Beethoven's instructions to the performer to hold down the sustain pedal throughout the piece, so that the harmonic reverberations ripple out into an indefinitely extended space.

The contemplative feeling of the contemporary minimalist piece by Ralph Zürmuhle is somewhat similar, surely the Beethoven is remembered in those simple floating chords.

It's great to see and think about those deer. This morning I visited the Tuxedo Park, NY village website and read the November "Mayor's Letter" announcing the latest deer slaughter plan, which I am assuming was greeted with general approval by the (mostly) zombie population. It was once the liveliest deer place imaginable -- truly glorious -- but the deer are almost 100% gone now. BTP resident atheists may disagree, but I think all those people are going to Hell. Curtis

Curtis, that zombie population is growing by leaps and bounds. No sooner is one planted, another pops out of the ground. The streets are full of them. Last night the bus I was on was "grounded" after a disabled passenger threw a histrionic fit. It had taken a full five minutes to get this person's contraption strapped on board, and no sooner are we rolling than there are cries of distress. Person refuses first aid but demands cash payment from the transit company plus a free bus pass for life. Bus is emptied, supervisor arrives to "pull the tape" for "incident review". So there we were in the dark cold street, prey to the thronging ambient dead... well, you know.

Richard, welcome, and to catch you up a bit, this banging-about with the cane has been going on for the past nineteen months, dating back to the night a car ran me over outside our house. Haven't taken a step without pain since then. So naturally I squander all the joy this has brought on the innocent souls who happen into the graveyard er...

I haven’t experienced any public bus madness for a long time, but I remember incidents in my past that I would like to forget. They always involved being on a NYC bus, but outside of Manhattan and really needing to stay on the bus all the way to the terminus because I had no idea where I was. The worst time happened when my grandfather drove me and a girlfriend from our house in Nassau County to the subway in Far Rockaway, Queens, to put me on a combined subway/bus trip into Manhattan in order to save the extra $2 or $3 Long Island Railroad fare. He was crazy and during the trip we ran into a bus driver who resembled that Philip Bosco character (called “Ralph Kramden from Hell”) in the funny/grim movie “Quick Change.” Your story reminds me of something I read about a movie-star-environmental-do-gooder-for-publicity (possibly George Clooney or Leonardo di Caprio), who was being upbraided in the press as a hypocrite for his 100% reliance on Gulfstream V jet travel. The responding publicist counter-upbraided the journalist, saying that she simply didn’t understand the need some people have for “private transportation.” I do understand it; I just can’t swing it. Curtis